


Two, Four, Six, Eight

by scepterofstardust



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Dating, Fluff, M/M, SaruMi - Freeform, Sarumi Week 2017, That's literally it i didn't hurt anybody this time, You can't take these kids anywhere, please help them, there's just a random asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepterofstardust/pseuds/scepterofstardust
Summary: A recap of Sarumi's first dates.





	Two, Four, Six, Eight

**Author's Note:**

> This is: a mess.
> 
> tumblr: scepterofstardust  
> twitter: lunatic_yoongi

DATE TWO

 

Their first few dates were, as Yata would describe it later, interesting.

 

Fushimi met him at a restaurant the second time (not too expensive that they couldn't afford it, but enough to mark the occasion). He was wearing a black t-shirt under a grey cardigan, with dark skinny jeans. It really did look amazing on him, if Yata felt like admitting it.

 

(He didn't.)

 

The usher sat them down at a row of tables and brought them water. Yata bit his lip, trying to tell himself there was no use in being nervous. Fushimi, as always, seemed unaffected, but something about the way he kept tapping the rim of his glass gave him away.

 

"So, this was a long time coming, huh?" Yata said, wanting a conversation to fill the awkward silence. Fushimi looked relieved at the opportunity.

 

"Yeah, I guess so." Fushimi was smirking a little, and Yata squinted at him.

 

"What are you smirking for, Saru?"

 

"Nothing, just-"

 

"Saru, I swear to God, if you're about to bring up another embarrassing story-"

 

"No, I would never." Yata continued to glare at him, unconvinced. "I just think it's funny how-"

 

"Stop."

 

"How when we were in middle school, you were embarrassed to so much as set eyes on a girl, and you had to practice kissing-"

 

"Oh, shut up."

 

"And now you're on a date with-"

 

"A nuisance?" Yata offered, putting a hand to his temple.

 

"A guy," Fushimi finished with a laugh. "All that for nothing, huh?"

 

"I...hate you."

 

"You keep saying that, but for some reason, I don't believe you."

 

"I will leave right now if you bring up the kissing thing one more time."

 

"Alright, I digress," Fushimi relented, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "We can talk about something else."

 

"Great. How was work today?" Fushimi looked at the ceiling, exasperated.

 

"That was weak. You're making it sound like I'm a forty year old father of two with a newspaper-"

 

"Yah, you're too dramatic," Yata protested. "I was just asking. Being that your job could put you in mortal danger, and all that."

 

"It was uneventful," Fushimi said with a shrug. "Mostly just paperwork today. The only interesting thing was the Captain nagging us to play Words With Friends."

 

Yata choked on his water. 

 

"You play Words With Friends?! Oh my God, I'm going to tease you about that forever-"

 

"I don't. Everyone else does. They've been bugging me to join the game for almost a year. I don't out of pity."

 

"Pity?"

 

"I've seen the screenshots. I'd have them all beaten in under 24 hours."

 

"Oh, you're too kind," Yata snorted. 

 

"I know." Fushimi answered. A moment later, he trailed off, eyes on something off to their right. Yata followed his gaze to the couple sitting a table away, an older man in a suit and a woman in red who were clearly wealthy.

 

"What are you looking at?"

 

"That man has been staring at us since we sat down." 

 

"Has he really? What's his damage?" 

 

"Don't know," Fushimi replied, turning back to face him. "But I don't like it. Two can play at that game."

 

As their date progressed, Fushimi managed the feat of being fully present and also evaluating the man beside them. After almost two hours of that, he finally twisted around, expression blank.

 

"Excuse me, sir?" The man looked up, giving Fushimi a once over that made Yata straighten up.

 

"What?"

 

"Pardon me, I just wanted to ask why you've been spending half your time with that lovely date of yours staring at me and my friend." Fushimi managed to look completely calm and disinterested, and Yata fought the urge to giggle. Oh, he was so good at harassing people.

 

"What are you talking about?" The stranger had the good sense to pretend he didn't know what he meant. Fushimi raised an eyebrow.

 

"Come on, let's not play games. Why are you staring at us? I want to know." The man's date looked at him nervously, but he ignored her.

 

"Don't get all defensive. I was just being curious."

 

"Curious enough to spend two hours checking us out? Explain that to me." Fushimi's eyes were challenging, boring a hole right into him. The man shifted in his seat, brow furrowing. 

 

"You two are quite the strange sight, is all." Yata's mouth dropped open. Fushimi went deathly still.

 

"So, you don't approve."

 

"Why are you asking me that? Are you gonna get all mad at me? Can't you take a little criticism-"

 

"So, that would be a no," Fushimi interrupted flatly. 

 

"Yeah, so what?" The man fired back, combative. His date tried to shush him. Fushimi smirked at him, holding his ground.

 

"Well, I'm terribly sorry to be the cause of your discomfort. If you are about to die of your allergy to homosexuals, I suggest you move elsewhere or seek medical assistance." Yata started laughing but turned it into a bout of loud coughing. The man went positively red.

 

"Who do you think you are, kid? Do you even know who I am-"

 

"No, and I don't want to," Fushimi chuckled. "Sit down, little man. Eat your dinner." With that, he turned back to their table, taking a drink of water. The stranger was left fuming, and Yata couldn't resist grinning at Fushimi.

 

"I love it when you blast someone who isn't me."

 

"You'd better find it attractive," Fushimi said, picking up his fork. "It's one of my best attributes." 

 

"I sure do," Yata muttered into his water glass.

 

They returned to their conversation, and ate all their food. They'd just called for the bill when they heard the man scoffing, and when Yata turned to look, he was pointing right at them. Saruhiko clenched his jaw and threw his napkin on the table.

 

"Oh, that's it. This asshole is not gonna point at us."

 

"Uh, Saru? What are you doing?"

 

"Nothing, Misaki," Fushimi bit out, yanking at his sweater sleeve.

 

"That isn't your 'nothing' face. That's your 'I'm about to commit murder' face."

 

"You know me too well," he replied. A second later, Yata saw him flick his wrist. He barely caught a flash of metal, and a beat later, there was a crash. The table a few yards over gave way, two of the legs falling down, and it tilted all the way to one side. All the food and wine flew off it, and directly onto the offending stranger. He swore loudly and stood up, stains all over his (probably expensive) suit. Yata gaped at Fushimi, who was gazing at the scene, eyebrows raised in feigned surprise.

 

"How unfortunate," Fushimi commented as if the man couldn't hear him. "These tables must not be as sturdy as they appear. We'd better leave before that happens to us, Misaki." With that, he stood up and casually started towards the exit. Yata followed after him quickly, hiding his smile behind his hand. Once they passed through the doors, Yata cackled, bending over halfway. Fushimi's shoulders shook as tried to hold in his laughter. 

 

"Oh my God," Yata crowed breathlessly. "I can't believe you brought a weapon to our date. Was that a fucking knife?"

 

"Yes. Better safe than sorry, right?" Fushimi seemed infinitely amused as he twirled his keys around his fingers. Yata wiped at his eyes and shook his head.

 

"Oh, man. I should've known something like this would happen with us."

 

"Of course. Wouldn't be us if there wasn't violence involved," Fushimi pointed out. "I had four more, just in case."

 

"How the hell-"

 

* * *

 

DATE FOUR

 

Their second date was notably lacking in violence, but the urges to strangle did come up.

 

They were sitting on a park bench eating ice cream. Fushimi looked more relaxed this time, even smiling once in a while. It made Yata a little too excited.

 

"Hey, let me tell a joke," he suggested. Fushimi's expression grew dubious, but he didn't object. Yata finished licking his spoon off and sat forward, trying not to giggle.

 

"What do you call it when someone kills their friend?" Fushimi narrowed his eyes.

 

"Is this foreshadowing?"

 

"What? Of course not. What do you think the answer is?" Fushimi scraped his spoon around the bottom of his cup and raised an eyebrow.

 

"First degree manslaughter?"

 

"Geez, you're no fun. Try again." Fushimi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

"I'm going to regret this, but, I'm going to say I don't know." Yata opened his mouth to say the answer, but he started laughing too hard. 

 

"It's..." He covered his mouth with his hand, looking at Fushimi with childish anticipation. 

 

"Just say it," Fushimi insisted, leaning back in his seat. "I can tell it's going to be terrible."

 

"It's _homiecide._ " Fushimi's eyes went wide in horror, and Yata burst out laughing again. 

 

"You're the worst," Fushimi got out, stunned.

 

"That's hilarious and you know it," Yata wheezed, clutching his stomach.

 

"Remind me why I'm dating you again?" Fushimi quipped, throwing his cup in the trash can with a scowl.

 

"Because you love me," Yata proclaimed dramatically, "and you wouldn't trade me for anything in the world-"

 

"No, I don't think that's it," Fushimi deadpanned, tapping his chin in mock thought. 

 

"Saru!" Yata smacked him on the arm.

 

"Tell another joke and I'll stab you," Fushimi threatened, pointing at him.

 

"Violence is never the answer," Yata intoned seriously.

 

"Says the one who owns a baseball bat to hit people with," the other boy hissed.

 

"You brought a KNIFE to our date! Multiple knives!" 

 

"I don't trust the general population!"

 

* * *

 

DATE SIX

 

 

A few weeks later, they went out to see a movie. It finished pretty late in the night, so naturally he offered for Fushimi to just come home with him instead of driving him back and then turning around to go to the dorms.

 

He didn't realize what he was in for.

 

Saru was so _cute._

Yata had made up the couch for him with extra pillows and a thin blanket (he didn't tell him, but it was actually from their old apartment; it was the specific kind that Fushimi liked since he got too hot while he slept and anything else was just an annoyance. Yata had kept it, for whatever reason. Definitely not because he hoped he'd need it again.) They both said their good-nights and Yata went to bed. He woke up in the middle of the night and went out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. On the way, he stopped in his tracks, speechless. 

 

Fushimi was curled up like a cat, knees tucked in. The blanket was up to his shoulders, and his chest rose and fell with even breaths. Without his glasses, he looked so much more innocent, dark lashes brushing his cheeks and lips parted. He looked so peaceful, none of that defensive harshness in his face. Yata thought his heart was melting. He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it. He tried reminding himself that Fushimi was prickly, that he'd once stabbed Yata in the shoulder and made him bleed, anything. But he wouldn't stop lying there, being adorable. Yata couldn't resist a picture, whether it was to tease him with later or just to prove that a peaceful Fushimi actually existed.

 

He really should have remembered that he had his flash on.

 

One heart attack (and a few bruises) later, the pictures on Yata's phone were not pleasant. Instead of the serene image he'd been trying to achieve, he had a demonic, blurry nightmare. Fushimi's eyes were wide in rage, the flash making his pupils show up red. His hair was sticking up all over the place, and he was snarling at the camera.

 

Yet another beautiful and priceless memory.

 

* * *

 

DATE EIGHT

 

Neither Yata or Fushimi liked to think of themselves of needing to be useful. It was true, for them both, of course. Yata loved being HOMRA's vanguard, loved the undeniable purpose of it, loved the rush when he was able to help his family. Fushimi liked to have a problem to solve, liked to be able to do what no one else could, liked when the Captain only came to him. But he would never admit that.

 

He couldn't help himself, though.

 

It started out innocently enough, when Yata asked him to reach a dish high up in the cupboard. Fushimi mocked him by moving it down shelf by shelf. 

 

"Can you reach it now? How about here? But it looks like you should be able to-"

 

"Shut the fuck up," Yata growled, swatting at his arm. "You want dinner, don't you? Then give me the damn plate." Fushimi smiled angelically and did so. His boyfriend scowled and took it, turning away to stir the pot. Fushimi looked away from him and observed the different shelves in the cabinet. His gaze fell on the one that Yata couldn't quite reach, and he grinned.

 

"Is the dishwasher done?"

 

"Yeah, why?"

 

"Should I put stuff back since we're about to make more dishes?" Yata turned around incredulously.

 

"You...what?"

 

"I'm serious."

 

"Okay, weirdo that's done nothing but complain about chores in the over a decade that I've known him," Yata retorted. "Go for it."

 

"I have to keep our relationship exciting somehow, don't I?" 

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Saru," Yata called from the kitchen the next day.

 

"Yeah?" Fushimi answered absentmindedly, focused on his report.

 

"C'mere for a sec." With a sigh, his boyfriend trudged into the kitchen. 

 

"What is it?"

 

"Can you get that stack of plates? I must've put them up there by accident." Fushimi glanced nonchalantly at the dishware and tried not to laugh. He'd moved the plates out of his reach yesterday, just to see what would happen. He picked them up and set them on the counter.

 

"Here you go, damsel in distress," he teased. Yata whacked him as he walked by, making him chuckle.

 

Fushimi kept it up over the following weeks, moving something subtle but that would eventually have to be used farther back into cabinets and onto the next shelf up. Partly, it was because it was funny that Yata didn't notice. Partly, because it meant Yata had to call for him. As much as he hated to say it, he liked being needed. So even if he was in the middle of work, he'd get up to fetch the dishes.

 

Eventually, of course, he was found out. Yata caught him moving an entire stack of bowls one night and scolded him, but when Fushimi sheepishly told him why, he softened up and just told him not to do it again. 

 

Every once in a while, though, he still asked Fushimi to get things down, even if it wasn't necessary. It was the least he could do.

 

Besides, Yata thought it was cute.


End file.
